Roses Are Red

Chapter 20

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Autumn

October 13th, 1960

3 AM

"I don't want to go to bed tonight."

The words fell out of her mouth in a slurred jumble. George chuckled at Samantha. She was drunk and spent the night dancing with Astrid, drinking beer after beer, chattering away, trying to forget that she was leaving. "Well you don't have to if you don't want to," George replied as he tightened his grip on her waist. He led her through the back door of the Bambi and into his small room. He sat her down on his bed and shrugged off his jacket. For a moment, the thought of how empty the bed would be without her tomorrow flitted through his mind. He pushed the thought away and toed off his shoes next. Samantha just stared at him with her mouth wide open in what looked to be a sense of awe.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" She asked him as he undressed himself.

"No, ye haven't. Ta, love," he responded with a light laugh. She sure was cute when she was drunk. She had a habit of complimenting him a lot too, which he enjoyed.

He pulled down his pants and stepped out of them. He kicked the pile of clothes to the side and threw his button up with them. Samantha continued to stare at him, making his cheeks burn a bright red. "What're ye staring at?"

"You."

"'Cause I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

George rolled his eyes. He couldn't help by smile at her again nonetheless. "Sammi, do ye think ye can get dressed in yer pajamas if I turn around?"

Samantha nodded and George turned to face the door. He studied the cracked paint on the walls and his dirty finger nails, noting that he needed to go to Astrid's again for a bath. "Done!" Samantha exclaimed.

George turned around to be met with her in only her bra and underwear. His eyes widened immediately and he covered his eyes with his hands out of respect for her. "Fuckin' hell Sammi ye really are sloshed!" He cried.

"What? These count as pajamas."

George shook his head. He closed his eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to her. "Just put this on for christ sakes," he squeaked out. If she, in her drunken state, was trying to fluster him, she definitely achieved her goal.

She pouted slightly and tugged George's big shirt over her head. "Okay you can open your eyes now," she muttered, her voice a bit more dejected than it had been. She was hugging her stomach and looking down.

George's mind whirled from the range of emotions she had just given him. He swallowed. The image of a practically naked Samantha was now burned into his mind. He could tell that she was now feeling down. So he shook his head and took a breath to regain his composure.

He flicked off the light and moved to the bed. George decided not to bother putting a shirt on. He'd be warm enough with Samantha next to him. Then, he laid down and opened his arms. "C'mere baby," he said softly.

Samantha eyed him as if trying to distinguish whether or not this was a trap, then she slowly laid on top of him. He wasn't expecting this, but enveloped her in a hug anyways and flipped them so they were both on their sides facing each other. Samantha giggled.

"Are ye okay?" George whispered as the pad of his thumb traced her cheekbone. He was referencing her earlier dejected reaction to his reaction; though he doubted she comprehended this.